f\  • 

GIFT 

OF 

/ 


<7 


OLD  SCHOOL  DAYS 
and  OTHER  POEMS 


- 


BY 


MARY  CAMERON  BENJAMIN 


1921 


•    ,» •      •••••        •       • 

/:&•:.:•::..:  ."•.•..• 


ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

My  Creed 5 

Old    Schoolhouse 6 

Old    Schooldays 7-8-9-10 

The    Skylark 10 

My  Childhood  Home 11 

May 11 

Far  From  Home 12 

Lest  We  Forget 12 

Snow   Flakes 13 

Inspiration    Point 13 

Tiger    Lilies 14 

My   Choice _ - » 14 

The  Hidden  Name 15 

The   Builders.... 15 

Sweet    Fern 16 

Sweetheart - : 16 

My  Dream  Pillow 17 

Heartsease ,. 17 

A  Rainy  Day  in  a  Garret 18 

Alone 18 

In   Dreams 19 

Alice 19 

Mary  and  Augusta 20 

Mary  and  Augusta — Poem 21 

Mission  Bells 22 

My  Vacation 23 

The  Guest  of  Honor— Old  Liberty  Bell. 24 

Love  at  the  Helm 24 

A  Birthday  Gift 25 

Sunshine _ 25 

On   My   Veranda 26 

On  My  Veranda— Poem 27 

To  Dr.  A.  M.  Beecher 27 

To   Laura 28 

Our  Flag 28 

Wond'rous  Work  of  Man 29 

My    Studio 30 

Not  Growing  Old 31 

To  Paul  Lawrence  Dunbar 31 

Buried  at  Sea 32 

Send  No  Flowers 32 

Table    Mountain 33 

Climbing _ 34 


854938 


PAGE 

Unknown 34 

A    Lul-la-By-By 35 

Each  His  Due 35 

Autumn    Leaves 36 

If 36 

A  Stolen  Day 37 

Friends 37 

My   Friend 38 

Two    Births 38 

A  Pacific  Coast  Sunset 39 

Friendship 39 

Queen   Victoria 40 

Drifting 40 

A   Memory 41 

Old   Point  Lobos 42 

Lincoln,  Great   Highway 43 

A    Voice 44 

The    Veterans 45 

Apple    Blossoms 46 

Dreaming 46 

My  Dove 47 

Love 47 

Ode  to  Joaquin  Miller 48 

Mother's  Voice 49 

To  My  Husband 50 

My  Home 51 

Together _ 51 

Dr.  and  Mrs.  Benjamin  on  Their  Golden  Wedding 52 

Our  Golden  Wedding  Day 53 

Only   Seems 54 

Fond    Hearts 55 

Still   Together 56 

Awaiting 57 


MY  CREED. 

Not  to  the  scholar  do  I  sing, 
Nor  to  the  critic  verse  I  bring, 
But  from  some  tender,  loving  heart, 
I  trust  my  rhymes  may  pluck  a  dart. 

Not  for  vain  glory  do  I  aim, 
Nor  for  the  prize  of  empty  fame, 
But  just  to  please  my  friends  and  self, 
I  sing  for  love,  and  not  for  pelf. 

For  no  high  sounding  rhymes  are  mine, 
Nor  yet  in  rhetoric  do  I  shine, 
But  just  a  loving  woman's  heart, 
Which  makes  for  me,  the  better  part. 


OLD  SCHOOL  DAYS. 

"Do  hurry  up — it's  eight  o'clock, 
And  time  to  go  to  school ; 
Pray  don't  be  tardy  every  day, 
You  know  the  teacher's  rule. 

"Your  dinner's  ready :  wash  your  face 
And  stop  that  awful  noise !" 
So  now  at  last  we're  off  for  school — 
Two  boys  and  two  tomboys. 

"What  makes  'em  scold  a  fellow  so  ? 
I  guess  we  shan't  be  late ; 
Hurrah !  there's  Will  and  Hiram  now, 
Down  by  the  lower  gate." 

With  laugh  and  shout  we  bound  along, 
Half  wild  with  childish  glee ; 
And  only  pause  for  one  good  breath, 
Beneath  the  big  elm  tree. 

Then  o'er  the  bridge  and  through  the  gate,. 
Up  hill  like  deer  we  run ; 
The  "big  road"  reached — now  straight  ahead 
And  air  beat  the  "big  drum." 

"Hoot !  hoot !  hurrah !  There's  John  and  Vill, 

I  knew  we  weren't  late !" 

An  answering  shout  gives  back  the  cry : 
"There's  Bub,  Van,  Lod  and  Mate !" 

Next  Alice  and  petite  Mari 
Come  tripping  through  the  lane ; 
Then  all  run  down  to  meet  the  pair 
And  climb  the  hill  again. 

The  teacher's  bell !    Now  one  and  all 

Rush  to  the  water  pail ; 
"Give  me  the  cup" ;  "it's  my  turn  next" ; 
"Ann's  bonnet's  on  my  nail." 

The  teacher  says  :  "Come — take  your  seats ; 
We'll  have  no  more  comments ; 
But  turn  yourselves  around  this  way, 
And  get  your  Testaments." 


We  little  reck'd  the  study  hour, 

But  only  thought  of  noon, 

With  "round  the  carpet,"  "snake,"  and  "tag" ; 

The  bell  rang  all  too  soon. 

Now  school  is  out — away  for  home ! 
As  fast  as  feet  can  go ; 
But  when  at  last  we  reach  the  bridge, 
We  hurry  very  slow. 

"Let's  take  our  shoes  and  stockings  off, 
And  wade  the  brook  a  spell" ; 
And  now  the  wond'rous  things  we  found, 
None  but  a  sage  could  tell. 

"The  biggest  trout  you  ever  saw 
Dodged  under  that  flat  stone; 
Oh !  If  I  had  my  net  along, 
I'd  catch  him  all  alone!" 

Then  like  a  flash  Lod's  apron's  off, 
Is  held  across  the  stream, 
To  catch  the  very  biggest  trout 
A  boy  had  ever  seen. 

"Now  girls,  hold  fast;  he'll  come  that  way; 
Don't  let  him  slip  along"; 
With  eager  hands  that  stone  is  raised, 
When,  lo ! — that  fish  is  gone. 

"He  must  have  crawled  down  in  the  sand ; 
Yes ;  see  the  bubbles  rise ; 
I  know  that  fish  went  under  there ; 
I  saw  him  with  my  eyes." 

But  now  the  sun  has  nearly  set : 
Come,  hurry,  sisters,  come; 
For  mother's  sure  to  want  to  know 
What  makes  us  so  late  home. 

Yes,  sure  enough ;  there's  mother  now, 
Down  by  the  garden  gate  ; 
And  then  our  mother's  voice  demands : 
"Why  are  you  home  so  late  ?" 


Now,  mother,  now,  you  needn't  scold, 
And  get  that  awful  gad ; 
The  way  that  teacher  keeps  us  in, 
I  think  is  most  too  bad. 

A  fiendish  laugh  breaks  on  our  ear, 
And  looking  toward  the  door, 
There  stands  "that  teacher,"  watch  in  hand 
"I've  been  here  just  one  hour!" 

Then  answered  one,  in  trembling  tones, 
Yet  logic  most  profound: 
"W-ell,  mother,  we  all  cut  across, 
While  teacher  came  around." 

Then  as  that  stinging  switch  descends, 
We  hear  a  firm  voice  say : 
"Now — don't  forget  tomorrow  night, 
That  you  must  come  that  way." 

Long  years  have  come  and  gone  since  then, 
We're  scattered  far  and  near ; 
Of  some  I've  almost  ceased  to  think, 
Of  some  I  never  hear. 

Some  lives  have  been  like  summer  days, 
Dark  clouds  have  some  o'er  cast ; 
While  some — no  doubt — in  loneliness 
Are  dreaming  o'er  the  past. 

And  one  hath  drunk  the  troubled  lees 
Of  Marah's  bitter  pool; 
And  she  the  youngest,  fairest  one — 
Our  queen  and  pet  at  school. 

One  dwells  beneath  a  southern  sky, 
And  two,  'neath  southern  soil 
Sleep  in  brave  soldiers'  honored  graves, 
Where  Neuse's  waters  roll. 

No  mother's  tear  bedews  the  sod, 
Where  our  dear  soldiers  sleep ; 
And  she  who  loved  the  best  of  all, 
In  loneliness  must  weep. 


Of  parents,  friends  and  promised  bride, 
And  all  he  loved  so  dear, 
Only  one  brother  stood  beside 
That  lowly  funeral  bier. 

May  no  such  cruel  fate  be  ours, 
Tho'  far  our  footsteps  roam ; 
But  faces  loved  above  us  bend, 
When  we  are  bidden  home. 

O  when  the  roll  is  called  on  high, 
And  names  I  love  appear : 
Of  parents,  teachers,  schoolmate  friends, 
May  each  one  answer,  "Here !" 


THE  SKYLARK. 

Come  fly,  love,  with  me, 

And  soon  we  will  be, 

Away  from  all  trouble  and  strife. 

And  then  very  soon 

The  man  in  the  moon, 

Will  make  you  my  dear  little  wife. 

Your  bride-robe  shall  be, 

The  mists  from  the  sea, 

With  fleecy  white  clouds  for  a  trail. 

And  the  stars  may  drop  down, 

A  gem-studded  crown, 

To  fasten  your  dainty  cloud  veil. 

A  honeymoon  trip, 

In  skylark  airship, 

Will  make  a  sensation,  my  dear. 

The  air  will  be  found, 

As  safe  as  the  ground ; 

So,  love,  we  have  nothing  to  fear. 

We'll  fly  'mong  the  stars, 

And  call  on  old  Mars, 

See  if  his  canals  are  OK. 

If  we  get  a  tip, 

May  sell  him  a  ship; 

To  fly  down  and  see  us  some  day. 

10 


MY  CHILDHOOD  HOME. 

The  storied  spots  that  Irving  knew. 
The  vale  where  Thanatopsis  grew, 
The  Catskill's  top  so  grand  and  still, 
The  loved  and  lovely  Berkshire  Hills. 

I  know  not  words  to  praise  the  one, 
Without  the  other  being  sung. 
My  home  in  childhood  'tween  the  two, 
Look'd  westward  and  the  Catskill's  view. 

Or  eastward  turn  admiring  eyes, 
Where,  lo,  the  glorious  Berkshire  lies, 
The  Hudson  flows  at  foot  of  one, 
Green  river  by  the  others  run. 

Oh !  land  of  beauty,  land  of  song, 
Does  praise  of  one  the  other  wrong, 
I  know  not  which  I  love  the  best, 
The  Berkshires  east  or  Catskills  west. 


MAY. 

Again  we  welcome  flow'ry  May: 
Again  the  blue-birds  sing; 
And  now  our  hearts  are  blithe  and  gay 
Oh !  gentle,  balmy  spring ! 

The  fragrant  orange  blossoms  with 
Sweet  incense  fill  the  air; 
The. ripening  cherries  bend  the  bough, 
Oh!  lovely  land,  how  fair! 

Then  tell  me  not  of  sunny  France, 
Of  tropic  flowers  nor  fruit ; 
The  sun  ne'er  kiss'd  a  fairer  spot 
Than  our  own  land  of  Butte. 

Oh !  golden  land — Oh !  land  of  hope ! 
Most  beautiful  to  see; 
Since  God  hath  made  His  earth  so  fair, 
What  must  His  Heaven  be ! 

11 


FAR  FROM  HOME. 

Far  from  home,  too  long  I've  lingered, 
Far  from  home  and  Mother  dear; 
Now  at  last  my  steps  are  Eastward, 
Once  again  her  voice  to  hear. 

She  will  meet  me  at  the  doorway, 
Put  her  arms  about  her  child, — 
O !  I  scarce  can  wait  the  moment, 
Now  my  heart  is  throbbing  wild. 

She  will  chide  me  Oh !  so  gently 
That  I  stayed  so  long  away ; 
Say  that  she  and  father  need  me, 
Now  they're  feeble,  old,  and  gray. 

O!  too  long,  too  long  I  lingered, 
Find  I  but  her  empty  chair; 
Now  the  cot  is  home  no  longer, 
Darling  Mother  is  not  there. 

When  I  look  toward  the  sunrise, 
Bitter  blinding  tear  drops  start  ; 
Mother's  sleeping  on  yon  hillside, 
Flowers  bloom  above  her  heart. 


LEST  WE  FORGET. 

This  lovely  tablet  here  we  place 
In  memory  of  a  vanished  race. 
Who  o'er  this  Island  once  did  roam, 
And  marked  it  for  their  last  long  home. 

It  may  have  been  they  here  had  found 
Their  spirits'  Happy  Hunting  Ground, 
But  progress'  ever  onward  pace, 
Has  claimed  the  Red  man's  resting  place. 

Their  bones  are  scattered  far  and  near, 
Their  spirits  still  may  linger  here ; 
And  so  this  Monument  we  set, 
Lest  we  forget ;  lest  we  forget ! 

12 


SNOW  FLAKES. 

Eden's   white   roses   are   shedding  their   leaves 
The  delicate  petals  float  down, 
Covering  the  meadows,  the  hills  and  the  trees 
With  a  beautiful  snow-white  gown. 

Now  some  are  gathering  bridal  wreaths, 
And  others  are  wreathing  their  dead ; 
As  it  falls  alike  on  the  bright  and  gay, 
And  on  those  who  tears  must  shed. 

Gently  it  glides  thru'  the  air,  but  so  cold 
It  touches  the  cheek  with  a  sting; 
Oh !  now  the  earth  seems  a  huge,  white  rose ; 
I'm  sure  angels  these  snow-flakes  fling, 
Or  Cherubim,  floating  from  star   to  star, 
Are  brushing  them  down  with  their  wings. 


INSPIRATION  POINT. 
YOSEMITE  VALLEY. 

'Twas  awe,  not  inspiration, 
That  sealed  my  trembling  lips 
When  first  my  eyes  beheld  your 
Cathedral  spires  and  tips. 

The  veil  seemed  rent  asunder, 
And  I,  an  humble  clod, 
Had  for  a  moment  entered 
The  presence  of  my  God. 

The  roaring,  mighty  waters, 
Falling  from  mountains  high, 
Looked  like  liquid  diamonds 
Poured  from  a  cloudless  sky. 

While  all  around  the  valley 
Were  sentinels  of  stone, 
Reared  by  the  Master  Builder, 
Proclaiming  it  His  own. 

13 


TIGER  LILIES. 
To  JESSIE. 

A  basket  of  golden  lilies, 
From  the  mountains  cool  and  clear, 
Were  sent  by  a  gentle  maiden, 
My  lonely  hours  to  cheer. 

Their  smiling  faces  are  freckled 
From  the  kiss  of  the  golden  sun; 
They  whisper  such  tales  of  gladness, 
That  it  makes  me  love  each  one. 

They  tell  me  of  free,  glad  hours, 
Far  away  from  the  busy  mart, 
While  a  murmur  of  mountain  breezes 
Is  heard  in  each  golden  heart. 

They  tell  me  of  wild  birds'  matins ; 
They  sing  me  such  tuneful  lays 
That  my  heart  is  filled  with  memories 
Of  my  happy  girlhood  days. 

When  Lot  and  I  gathered  flowers 
On  the  banks  of  flowing  streams  ; 
And  builded  such  beautiful  castles 
Found  only  in  maiden's  dreams. 

Thanks  for  your  kindness,  dear  Jessie, 
For  the  lilies  so  sunny  and  true : 
Their  golden  light  on  my  table 
Is  a  loving  reminder  of  you. 

MY  CHOICE. 

The  modest  lily,  royal  rose, 
Sweet  pinks  and  pansies — all  that  grows 
Within  bright  Flora's  gay  parterre 
Can  not  with  my  choice  compare. 

Many  there  are  fair  to  see, 
Many  rare  and  fragrant  be 
But  the  ones  I  fondly  prize 
Are  a  pair  of  violet  eyes. 

14 


THE  HIDDEN  NAME. 

There's  a  dear  name  hidden  within  my  breast, 
That  my  lips  cling  to  in  a  sweet  caress ; 
But  never  aloud  for  another  ear 
Do  I  speak  the  name  to  me  so  dear. 

I  whisper  it  to  the  murm'ring  rill 

I  breathe  it  when  nature  is  calm  and  still, 

I  tell  it  oft  to  the  birds  and  flowers, 

And  with  tears  I  bedew  it  at  midnight's  hours. 

I  sigh  for  lost  days  that  come  no  more, 
When  we  told  our  love  tales  o'er  and  o'er ; 
Then  glory  and  honors,  or  wealth  and  fame, 
To  our  fond  hearts  were  but  empty  name. 

Often  he  called  me  his  "star  of  the  sea." 
And  vowed  I  ever  his  load-star  should  be ; 
So  came  the  parting  with  kisses  and  tears, 
And  it  has  lasted  through  many  long  years. 

We  parted,  alas !  to  meet  never  more, 
'Till  in  joy  we  awake  on  Eden's  fair  shore; 
And  there,  'mid  sweet  music — heavenly  sound- 
Rejoice  in  the  old  love  newly  found. 


THE  BUILDERS. 

Our  home  is  built 

With  song  and  tilt. 
And  the  finest  of  everything  in  it. 

No  matter  our  name, 

Nor  whence  we  came, 
Be  we  robins,  or  blue-birds,  or  linnet. 

We  work  and  sing 

On  the  tree  tops  we  swing, 
But  one  on  the  nest  every  minute, 

Then  some  sunny  day 

That's  not  far  away, 
We'll  find  dear  little  baby  birds  in  it. 

15 


SWEET  FERN. 

O !  the  sunny  vales  I  knew, 
Where  the  precious  sweet  fern  grew, 
Bud  and  branch  and  leaf  so  sweet, 
Nothing  with  you  can  compete. 

Sweet-fern  pillows,  dreams  doth  bring, 
Of  the  balmy  days  of  spring, 
Of  the  happy  childhood  days, 
E'er  we  learned  life's  bitter  ways. 

O !  to  see  thee  once  again, 
Growing  in  the  dear,  old  lane, 
Just  thy  fragrant  breath  to  smell, 
Just  to  know  that  all  is  well. 

Sweet  fern,  sweet  fern,  can  there  be 
Any  other  sweet  like  thee? 


SWEETHEART. 

You  ask  me  my  ideal 
What  a  sweetheart  ought  to  be; 
I  can  tell  you,  for  I  know  him, 
And  he's — oh !  so  dear  to  me. 

His  eyes  are  blue  as  heaven, 
With  such  loving  lights  within ; 
And  that  sly  and  roguish  Cupid 
Kissed  a  dimple  in  his  chin. 

He  is  tall  and  he  is  handsome : 
He  is  gentle,  he  is  proud ; 
He  is  one  a  pretty  maiden 
Would  observe  in  any  crowd. 

And  whisper  to  her  own  heart, 
Every  time  she  chanced  to  see ; 
Oh !  he's  such  a  gallant  sweetheart- 
He  is  just  the  one  for  me. 

16 


MY  DREAM  PILLOW. 

It  has  oh !  such  cosy  hollows, 
Full  of  all  things  sweet  and  good, 
Flowers  and  ferns  and  fragrance, 
Pine  needles  from  spicy  wood. 

It  soothes  my  weary  moments, 
Takes  me  back  to  childhood  days, 
When  earth  was  so  near  heaven, 
That  my  heart  is  bowed  in  praise. 

My  pillow  has  other  merits, 
Has  other  charms  for  me ; 
Could  you  look  into  its  corners 
Something  like  this  you'd  see: 

Roses  and  lilies  and  lilacs, 
Forget-me-nots,  too,  are  there, 
With  a  bit  of  rue  and  cypress, 
That  I  in  my  heart  oft  wear. 

But  even  the  rue  is  less  bitter, 
Sweetened  with  memories  blest, 
Knowing  how  short  is  the  journey, 
That  leadeth  to  rest,  sweet  rest. 


HEARTSEASE. 

Oh !  give  to  me  the  little  flower 
That  wears  the  human  face; 
It  sweetest  is  in  mead  or  bower, 
'Twould  bier  or  bridal  grace. 

You  may  give  the  rose  and  lily 
To  the  young  and  fair  and  gay, 
But  wear  sweet  pansy  blossoms 
When  youth's  bright  hopes  decay. 

I'd  wear  them  ever  on  my  breast, 
Their  fragrance  in  my  heart; 
So  when  you're  giving  posies,  dear, 
Let  heartsease  be  my  part 

17 


A  RAINY  DAY  IN  A  GARRET. 

A  rainy  day  in  the  garret : 
Ah !  that  hath  charms  for  me  ; 
A  cosy  seat  in  the  window, 
Where  I  the  woods  can  see. 

No  one  comes  to  chide  me, 
Alone  in  the  house  I  seem ; 
I  sit  and  build  my  castles  bright, 
And  read  and  think  and  dream. 

So  a  house  without  a  garret 
Can  never  my  hopes  fulfill, 
With  its  nice,  dark  creepy  corners 
And  a  deep,  rough  window-sill. 

Where  I  may  build  my  castles, 
And  people  them  with  my  friends ; 
Of  earth  and  air  I  hold  the  reins; 
What  a  pity  that  childhood  ends ! 

Old  age  finds  my  cherished  garret 
So  dismal  and  dark  and  cold : 
Full  of  pain  and  shadows  and  hunger; 
So  a  garret's  no  good  when  you're  old. 


ALONE. 

Alone  at  night  she  left  us 
But,  ah!  was  she  alone? 
To  find  her  way  unguided, 
Up  to  the  dear,  new  home. 

Who  knows  who  came  to  bear  her, 
Out  to  the  golden  shore; 
No  doubt  it  was  the  dear  one 
Who  just  had  gone  before. 

And  now  at  home  together, 
Free  from  the  dross  of  earth, 
They  wait,  'mid  fadeless  flowers, 
Their  children's  heavenly  birth. 

18 


IN  DREAMS. 

In  dreams  I  see  my  native  hills : 
In  dreams  I  breathe  the  air 
Borne  by  the  zephyrs  from  thy  tops 
Dear  Catskills,  oh!  so  fair! 

On  grander  peaks  of  mystic  blue, 
The  sunlight  never  rose ; 
While  at  thy  feet,  in  majesty, 
The  Hudson  calmly  flows. 

How  oft,  in  childhood's  sunny  days, 
When  tired  with  laugh  and  play, 
I've  rested  gazing  on  thy  heights, 
'Mid  clover  blossoms  gay. 

j  ::•,•*',  / 

And  should  my  waking  eyes*  Devoid 
These  well-loved  scenes ' n&  morey.,» 
I  know  their  like  I'll  toev'gp  Bad ,' '  >, 
This  side  the  "Golden  Shore." 


ALICE. 

Give  one  thought  to  me  as  you  gather  around 
Your  bright,  glowing  hearth-stone  tonight  ; 
Go  back  to  our  childhood  in  fancy  again, 
To  the  years  that  were  fleeting  and  bright. 

Give  a  thought  to  the  hours  we  sat  at  our  desk, 
To  the  days  that  we  roamed  thro'  the  wood  ; 
When  hunting  for  beechnuts  or  winter  greens  bright 
All  earth  to  our  vision  seemed  good. 

Tho'  here,  on  the  Occident's  green  sunny  slope, 
'Neath  the  shade  of  the  orange  and  vine, 
With  birds  singing  o'er  me  and;  flowers  in  bloom, 
For  the  faces  of  kindred  I  pihe;  ;\;  ;  \/ 


For  the  strong,  tender  cla^p  of  V 

For  a  word  —  for  a  smile  —  for  a'fcisV; 

A  chair  by  your  fireside,  tho'  storms  rage  without, 

I  would  gladly  exchange  all  for  this. 

19 


MARY. 

Little  namesake  well  you  know 
Where  the  fairest  flowers  grow, 
And  you  bring  me  buds  and  blooms, 
Till  their  fragrance  fills  my  rooms. 

Sweetest  roses,  oh  so  fine, 
In  my  silvery  hair  you  twine, 
Darling  little  blue-eyed  elf, 
None  are  sweeter  than  yourself. 


AUGUSTA. 

Dear  little  brown-eyed  Augusta, 
Who  was  born  in  the  Klondike  so  cold, 
To  us  she  is  the  fairest  of  jewels, 
More  precious  than  mountains  of  gold, 

She  came  in  the  dark  of  December, 
In  the  land  of  the  midnight  sun, 
And  now  though  a  baby  no  longer, 
All  hearts  by  her  sweetness  are  won. 


21 


MISSION  BELLS. 

O !  Mission  Bells,  sweet  Mission  Bells, 
What  wond'rous  tale  your  soft  voice  tells, 
Of  pious  woman's  noble  stand, 
So  long  ago  in  far-off  land. 

Men  gave  the  gold  which  they  could  spare, 
Then  gentle  woman  gave  her  share ; 
Took  off  her  broaches,  rings  and  gems, 
And  melted  up  her  diadem. 

To  do  her  part  to  carry  light, 
To  heathen  sunk  in  God-less  night ; 
Then  listen  to  the  sweet-toned  bells, 
And  learn  the  secret  that  it  tells. 

The  gold  and  silver  all  can  hear, 
It  rings  so  rich  and  loud  and  clear, 
But  there's  a  tone  that's  richer  far, 
Than  tones  of  metal  ever  are. 

The  Emerald  rings  of  pastures  green, 
The  Diamond  of  great  glories  seen, 
The  Pearl  rings  tear  drops  of  decay, 
For  Mission  almost  swept  away. 

The  Ruby  rings  a  note  of  joy, 
She  knew  all  Earth  had  some  alloy, 
And  knowing  well  the  Mission's  worth, 
By  faith  she  saw  the  Landmark's  birth. 

O !  noble  ladies  of  Castile, 
Your  pious  offerings,  earnest  zeal, 
Shall  life  once  more  your  mission  give, 
And  prove  indeed  that  spirits  live. 

Then  ring,  sweet  Carmel  Mission  Bells, 
For  to  a  list'ning  world  you  tell 
That  health  and  beauty  here  are  free, 
In  lovely  Carmel-by-the-Sea. 

22 


MY  VACATION. 

I  circled  the  globe  in  my  old  rocking  chair, 

Not  a  place  you  can  name,  but  I  have  been  there. 

No  baggage,  no  ticket,  no  bother  was  there, 

Just  my  books,  and  my  table,  and  old  rocking  chair. 

We  sat  on  a  bridge  in  queen  Venice,  the  fair, 
Saw  gondolas  glide  by,  a  sight  that  was  rare. 

Next  Rome  was  our  prize  all  her  treasures  to  share, 
For  there's  nothing  too  good  for  me  and  my  chair. 

Then  Florence,  the  golden,  and  what  can  compare 
With  the  beautiful  Arno?   And  Gordon  was  there. 

Saw  the  cold  frozen  north  with  its  glitter  and  glare, 
From  a  warm,  cozy  nook  in  that  same  rocking  chair. 

Saw  the  mystical  light  of  the  midnight  sun, 
And  danger  of  death  thru'  icebergs  we've  run. 

Saw  aurora  borealis,  so  God-like  and  fair, 

Thru'  the  eyes  of  a  friend,  one  who  had  been  there. 

All  pleasures  and  glories  of  travel  we  share, 
With  feet  on  the  fender,  in  my  old  rocking  chair. 

To  Lew  Wallace  lands  I  have  clear  title  deeds, 
On  the  wealth  of  the  Indies'  I  draw  at  my  needs. 

Roam  the  heart  of  the  tropics  'mid  thrice-heated  air, 
On  a  cool  shady  porch,  in  my  old  rocking  chair. 

I  sup  oft  with  the  greatest  in  every  land, 

In  the  presence  of  princes  I  need  never  stand. 

Their  thoughts  and  their  labors  and  treasures  I  share 
'Neath  my  own  study  lamp,  in  my  own  rocking  chair. 

When  weary  of  Earth  we  oft  soar  to  the  stars, 
Watch  the  moon  in  her  orbit  call  on  Venus  and  Mars. 

Indeed  there's  no  limit,  and  with  so  little  care, 
To  the  marvelous  trips  in  my  old  rocking  chair. 

23 


THE  GUEST  OF  HONOR— OLD  LIBERTY  BELL 

You,  old  bell,  though  worn  and  crippled, 
You !  the  Honored  Guest  shall  be, 
Every  loyal  heart  remembers, 
How  you  rang  for  Liberty. 

You  first  told  the  wond'rous  story, 
"The  Flag  of  Freedom"  is  unfurled, 
Tho'  long  years  ago  you  told  it, 
It  still  rings  around  the  world. 

Still  that  iron  voice  is  ringing, 
And  its  music  ne'er  will  cease, 
Once  again  we  long  to  hear  you, 
Ring,  Old  Bell,  Oh !  ring  for  Peace. 

That  this  pilgrimage  you're  making, 
Surely  some  great  work  is  for, 
God  in  heaven,  Oh !  grant  the  glory, 
That  you  ring  the  end  of  war. 

As  in  that  far  Quaker  city, 
Once  you  rang  the  knell  of  fate, 
May  you  ring  the  peace  of  nations, 
Here  beside  the  Golden  Gate. 


LOVE  AT  THE  HELM. 

If  love,  pure  love  is  at  the  helm, 
No  matter  how  the  storms  may  rage 
Our  barges  it  can  ne'er  overwhelm, 
In  any  clime  or  age. 

Love  holds  the  tempest  in  his  hand, 
The  elements  his  laws  obey, 
There  is  no  power  love  can  withstand, 
For  love  is  love  alway. 

It  turns  black  darkness  into  light, 
It  lightens  ev'n  death's  dark  gloom ; 
It  leads  the  soul  to  glorious  heights, 
And  lives  beyond  the  tomb. 

24 


A  BIRTHDAY  GIFT. 

You  ask  me  why  I  cherish 
This  withered,  faded  rose, 
When,  in  my  lovely  garden, 
So  many  brighter  grow. 

The  hand  that  plucked  this  flower, 
And  placed  it  on  my  breast, 
Is  the  dearest  one  on  earth  to  me, 
The  kindest  and  best. 

It  was  my  lover-husband, 
Of  more  than  thirty  years ; 
My  truest  friend  in  sickness, 
In  health,  in  joy,  or  tears. 

So,  when  he  gave  this  rosebud, 
With  a  tender  word  and  kiss, 
'Twas  better  far  than  jewels: 
That's  why  it  cherished  is. 


SUNSHINE. 

Carry  sunshine  with  you, 
Wherever  you  may  go; 
You'll  meet  a  warmer  welcome 
From  every  one  you  know. 

All  have  enough  of  shadow, 
So  don't  bring  any  more  ; 
But  everywhere  youren^er.  u 
Let  sunshine  in  the 


A  smile,  a  word  *qf  gpeStiitg^"  "{*•:.*•  • 
Or  just  a  jolly  nod,  *•••••! 

May  make  some  sad  heart  lighter, 
And  make  them  think  "Thank  God" 

That  all's  not  grouch  and  grumble 
And  soon  they'll  understand, 
Ev'n  though  it  may  be  hazy, 
There's  sunshine  in  the  land. 

25 


26 


ON  MY  VERANDA. 

The  starry  bloom  of  the  orange  tree 
Is  shedding  its  fragrance  over  me 
Side  by  side  with  the  rich  ripe  fruit 
That's  always  found  in  the  groves  of  Butte. 

Look  where  I  will,  I'm  sure  to  see 
The  blooming  rose  and  the  orange  tree ; 
Roses  of  red,  yellow,  pink  and  white, 
Roses  grown  to  a  wond'rous  height. 

Dropping  their  petals  so  bright  and  sweet, 
To  make  a  carpet  for  dainty  feet 
Brighter  and  finer  than  Orient  loom. 
Hath  ever  woven  for  queen's  own  room. 

The  lilies,  too,  add  a  tender  grace 

With  their  broad,  green  leaves  and  pure  white  face. 

But  a  clinging  vine  on  the  old  gray  wall, 

For  me  hath  the  greatest  charm  of  all. 

Here  a  pair  of  birds  have  built  a  home, 
And  here  their  nestlings  will  some  day  come ; 
I'll  rest  'neath  the  shade  of  my  orange  tree. 
And  the  birds  will  sing  sweet  songs  to  me. 


TO  DR.  A.  M.  BEECHER 
On  her  80th  birthday. 

Full  fourscore  years  you've  graced  this  earth, 
Which  was  made  better  by  your  birth ; 
To  mark  your  honored  natal  day 
And  add  one  tiny,  tender  ray 
To  all  the  wishes,  fond  and  true, 
Which  friends  this  day  will  send  to  you ; 
While  yet  the  garden  bent  with  dew, 
I  culled  these  fragrant  flowers  for  you. 

A  rose,  a  pink,  sweet  mignonette, 

And  the  flower  that  bids  us  "not-forget." 

Each  petal  holds  a  loving  prayer 

That  we,  some  day,  shall  meet  somewhere, 

Where  youth  and  age  are  all  the  same 

And  life  and  love  are  more  than  name. 

27 


TO  LAURA. 

Musing  here  in  the  twilight, 
Dreaming  of  youth  long  fled, 
My  thoughts  are  oft  with  the  living, 
But  oftener  far  with  the  dead. 

In  fancy  I'm  back  to  our  childhood, 
Living  o'er  happy  hours — 
Hours  that  we  spent  as  thoughtlessly, 
As  birds  among  the  flowers. 

We  never  dreamed  of  the  shadows 
That  later  were  sure  to  come ; 
We  only  saw  the  sunshine, 
And  heard  the  pleasant  hum. 

Of  the  loved  and  loving  voices, 
That  rang  with  merry  glee, 
Laughing,  singing,  jesting, 
Our  hearts  from  care  so  free. 

We  took  no  thought  of  the  morrow; 
We  planned  not  for  trouble  nor  care ; 
To  us  all  life  was  a  play-time, 
But  ah !  it  has  proved  less  fair. 

We  have  found  that  all  must  suffer : 
Must  part  of  the  burden  bear ; 
Must  take  up  our  cross  and  follow, 
If  we  the  crown  would  wear. 


OUR  FLAG. 

Old  Glory  shall  reign,  o'er  the  land  of  the  free, 
And  her  glory  and  powers  shall  increase ; 
And  this  is  the  legend  she  proudly  shall  bear, 
Prosperity,  Progress,  and  Peace. 
28 


WOND'ROUS  WORKS  OF  MAN. 

Almighty  power  mankind  hath  tried 
Creation  to  improve. 
The  barriers  built  at  thy  command, 
Man's  hand  hath  dared  remove. 

Yea !  wond'rous  work  man's  hand  hath  wrought, 
To  aid  the  human  race. 
Thine  image  God  with  brain  and  brawn, 
Hath  conquered  time  and  space. 

Two  mighty  seas  now  meet  as  one, 
And  continents  divide, 
Where  lofty  hills  and  forest  stood, 
Our  stately  ships  now  glide. 

Man  flies  above  the  thunder  clouds, 
The  lightning  he  commands, 
The  wind  waves  bear  his  messages, 
O'er  wireless  seas  and  lands. 

He  hath  enchained  the  human  voice, 
That  ages  hence  shall  ring; 
Long  after  flesh  is  lost  in  dust, 
The  world  will  hear  them  sing. 

Is  there  no  limit  to  man's  power, 
His  brain,  his  brawn,  his  pen? 
We  feel  indeed  we're  living  in 
An  age  of  God-like  men. 

We'll  give  these  great  men  all  their  due, 
All  honor,  praise — but  then, 
We'll  not  forget  God's  greatest  work, 
The  Mothers  of  these  men. 


The  Panama  Canal  is  done, 
Man's  hand  completes  what  God  begun, 
And  turns  two  mighty  seas  in  one. 
29 


MY  STUDIO. 

There  are  many  cherished  pictures 
On  my  memory's  gallery  wall ; 
Some  are  transient,  some  are  fixtures, 
But  I  dearly  prize  them  all. 

There  are  sunny  scenes  of  childhood, 
Merry  views  of  long  ago ; 
Happy  ramblings  thro'  the  wildwood, 
Hanging  in  my  studio. 

There's  a  lovely  sloping  hillside, 
Where  'neath  branches  spreading  shade, 
In  the  olden,  joyous  noontide, 
We  at  keeping-house  have  played. 

Just  a  row  of  stones  our  mansion, 
With  a  stick  to  mark  the  door ; 
And  the  blue  sky  for  a  transom, 
And  the  green  sward  for  a  floor. 

There  are  years  of  careless  girlhood, 
Filled  with  hope  and  joy  and  mirth; 
There's  a  flow'ret  from  the  wildwood 
That  was  never  born  of  earth. 

There  are  sacred  scenes  of  home  life, 
Which  no  careless  eyes  may  see ; 
There's  a  happy,  smiling,  young  wife, 
With  her  first-born  on  her  knee. 

There  are  scenes  of  death  and  parting ; 
Scenes  the  loving  heart  appal : 
And  the  tear-drop  oft  is  starting 
As  I  wander  through  my  hall. 

There  is  room  for  one  grand  treasure, 
Which  old  Time  is  painting  fast; 
And  he  gives  it  fullest  measure, 
For  it  will  forever  last. 

'Tis  a  holy,  blest  re-union 

Over  on  the  golden  shore; 

Where  we'll  dwell  in  sweet  communion 

With  our  loved  ones  gone  before. 

30 


NOT  GROWING  OLD. 

Nay,  nay,  we  are  not  growing  old, 
But  growing  toward  the  light 
Of  that  bright  day  beyond  the  stars — 
The  day  that  has  no  night. 

We  soon  will  overtake  our  friends 
Who  started  on  before, 
We'll  meet  and  greet  beloved  ones, 
To  part  with  them  no  more. 

To  those  who're  trailing  on  behind, 
Who  yet  must  watch  and  wait, 
Before  they  too  shall  enter  in, 
That  heavenly  Golden  Gate. 

To  them  we  say :  "Be  patient,  friend, 
Look  up  and  trust  our  God ; 
For  all  who  would  the  best  receive, 
Must  pass  beneath  his  rod. 

Then  here's  to  all  who're  growing  young, 
Who'll  soon  their  cares  lay  down, 
To  wear  for  aye  in  paradise, 
A  fadeless  love-gemmed  crown. 


TO  PAUL  LAWRENCE  DUNBAR. 

He  has  crossed  the  bars 

Beyond  the  stars, 

He  has  passed  the  color  line; 

He'll  sing  no  more, 

On  this  fair  shore, 

But  his  songs  will  forever  shine. 

Sweet  soul  so  true, 

We'll  sigh  for  you, 

For  your  songs  so  quaint  and  bright ; 

We  hope  up  there, 

Not  one  will  care, 

If  your  skin  be  dark  or  light. 

31 


BURIED  AT  SEA. 

O  Sea,  O  Sea,  give  up  my  dead, 
Give  back  my  lover  to  me, 
Give  back  the  lips  I've  fondly  pressed, 
Give  back  my  dead,  O  Sea. 

They  took  him  from  my  loving  arms, 
They  tore  him  away  from  me, 
And  gave  my  love,  my  tender  love, 
For  thy  cold  embrace,  O  Sea. 

Down,  down  in  thy  cold  blue  depths,  O  Sea. 
They  have  buried  my  love  from  my  sight, 
And  now  tho'  the  sun  be  shining  on  high, 
To  me  it's  a  starless  night. 

They  say  we  shall  meet,  no  more,  no  more. 
Till  I  pass  thru  the  ether  blue, 
So  have  mercy,  O !  God,  I  pray, 
Have  pity  and  take  me,  too. 


SEND  NO  FLOWERS. 

O !  send  no  flowers  when  I  pass. 
Let  no  display  appear. 
But,  if  your  heart  holds  one  regret, 
Be  your  tribute  then  a  tear. 

Give  wreaths  and  other  emblems  grand, 
Sing  praises  all  may  hear, 
For  those  who  love  the  world's  applause, 
I  only  ask  a  tear. 

If  one  can  say  in  honest  truth, 
If  any  one  is  here, 
To  say  she  did  the  best  she  could, 
Then  smile  or  drop  a  tear. 

Bring  flowers  to  me  while  I  live, 
To  breathe  their  fragrant  breath, 
But  waste  no  single  one  on  me, 
When  I  am  cold  in  death. 

32 


TABLE  MOUNTAIN. 

Last  night  a  royal  feast  was  laid, 
A  feast  for  gods  it  seemed ; 
For  mortals  only  heard  the  sounds 
And  so  mayhap  we  dreamed. 

Such  mighty  music  filled  the  air, 
Loud  thunders  roar  and  crash — 
It  was  a  scene  for  gods  alone, 
'Mid  lightning's  lurid  flash. 

The  cloth  a  field  of  shim'ring  gold, 
Of  poppies,  rich  and  fair, 
The  centerpiece  great  Live  Oaks 
In  solid  stone  were  there. 

Roast  oxen  placed  before  each  one, 
With  casks  for  drinking  can, 
For  here  a  banquet  was  prepared 
For  primal  giant  man. 

Rich  wines  had  mellowed  in  the  cave 
For  centuries  untold ; 

Now  forth  were  brought  to  quench  the  thirst 
Of  these  great  ones  of  old. 

'Mid  pauses  oft  a  voice  was  heard, 
The  Feather  River  sang, 
A  drinking  song,  so  loud  and  deep, 
With  shouts  the  valley  rang. 

The  walls  of  this  great  banquet  room, 
Creation's  hall  mark  bore. 
The  Coast  Range  west,  Sierra  east, 
The  Buttes  its  southern  door. 

While  Shasta  stands  eternally 

To  bar  the  icy  cold 

And  shield  our  northern  Citrus  Belt, — 

Our  lands  of  fruit  and  gold. 

But  lo  the  day  is  breaking  fast ! 
Away  ye  giant  horde ! 
Morn  finds  deserted  seats  around 
Old  Table  Mountain's  board. 

33 


CLIMBING. 

O !  I  am  so  weary  of  climbing  all  day, 

Of  fighting  and  toiling  each  step  on  my  way. 

No  bright  paths  of  pleasure,  no  down  grades  I  find, 

But  steeper  and  steeper,  as  upward  I  climb. 

I  look  back  on  my  way,  and  see  green  smiling  plains, 
My  feet  then  will  slip  and  I  lose  all  I've  gained, 
Till  my  heart  and  limbs  grow  weary  and  sore, 
I  almost  resolve  I  will  struggle  no  more. 

Is  there  no  way  up  save  this  dark  narrow  one, 
No  highway  that's  light  from  the  rays  of  the  sun. 
Must  we  grope  on  in  fear,  one  step  at  a  time, 
Not  daring  to  turn,  looking  up  as  we  climb? 

Oh !  tell  me  good  spirit,  Oh !  tell  me  I  pray, 
Must  we  suffer  and  toil,  up  hill  all  the  way, 
And  what  is  the  view  from  the  top  when  at  last, 
We  safely  are  landed,  with  danger  all  past? 

Then  answered  a  voice,  from  the  realms  on  high ; 
And  its  sweetness  was  gathered  beyond  the  sky, 
Saying :  "Yes !  child,  it's  up  hill  all  the  way, 
From  darkness  up  into  glorious  day." 

"You'll  smile  at  your  hardships,  when  time  shall  be  o'er. 
When  unfettered  you  stand  on  that  beautiful  shore, 
A  being  made  perfect,  in  form  and  in  mind, 
And  wear  the  bright  jewel  the  seeker  shall  find." 


UNKNOWN. 

Unknown,  ah !  yes,  his  name's  unknown, 
But  every  city,  hamlet,  home, 
Will  claim  the  hero  as  its  own. 

In  Arlington  his  dust  shall  sleep, 
Where  heroes  watch  and  ward  shall  keep, 
For  those  on  land  and  in  the  deep. 

But  in  the  great  Eternity, 

His  name  the  brightest  one  will  be, — 

He  died  to  save  Humanity. 

34 


A  LUL-LA-BY-BY. 

Sleep  little  baby, 
There's  nothing  to  fear. 
Sleep  little  darling, 
Your  daddy  is  near. 

Mother's  warm  bosom, 
Your  pillow  shall  be 
There  from  all  danger, 
My  baby  is  free. 

Scent  of  sweet  roses, 
Soft  zephyrs  will  bring 
Sun-shine  about  thee, 
And  sweet  birds  to  sing. 

Sleep,  little  darling, 
Sleep  Lul-la-by-by, 
We  will  watch  o'er  thee : 
God,  Daddy  and  I. 


EACH  HIS  DUE. 

Most  gladly  we  greet  you, 
In  khaki  or  blue; 
We  know  to  our  country 
You  all  have  been  true. 

All  did  not  go  over — 
They  had  not  the  chance, 
But  were  eager,  and  waiting, 
The  word  to  "advance." 

Then  give  them  all  honors 
Let  all  fare  the  same, 
Our  Soldiers,  our  Sailors — 
To  do  less  were  a  shame. 

Then  make  no  distinction 
All  offered  the  price 
And  were  ready  to  make 
The  Supreme  Sacrifice. 

35 


AUTUMN  LEAVES. 

Drifting  down  in  the  sunshine, 
Dropping  so  gently  and  slow, 
Coming  in  whorling  showers, 
When  the  cruel  north  winds  blow. 

Red  and  yellow  and  purple, 
Russet  and  scarlet  and  brown : 
A  mass  of  softened  color 
The  autumn  leaves  float  down. 

Down  to  the  dry,  dead  grasses, 
Down  to  the  damp,  cold  ground ; 
Knee-deep  we  soon  will  find  them 
Making  a  somber  mound. 

That  again  to  earth  returning, 

Shall  in  the  future  bring 

All  that  we  now  are  losing 

In  the  bright,  young  leaves  of  spring. 

How  like  our  own  is  the  story 
Of  the  leaves  now  drifting  by, 
Only  a  span  of  earth  life 
Ere  we  'neath  mounds  must  lie. 

And  we  like  leaves  in  autumn 
Shall  rise  from  our  lonely  rest; 
But  unlike  leaves  in  springtime, 
Be  forever  young  and  bfest. 


IF. 


If  we  could  lay  a  double  track 
To  go  with  those  who  ne'er  come  back ; 
Go  hand  in  hand  across  the  deep, 
And  leave  our  senseless  dust  to  sleep : 
Yea,  soul  with  soul,  go  hand  in  hand — 
Then  who  would  dread  the  shadowy  land  ? 

36 


A  STOLEN  DAY. 
To  AUGUSTA. 

Dear  Kate,  do  you  remember, 

That  bright  day  in  December? 

When  we  strolled  down  by  the  river's  rocky  bay 

'Twas  like  a  day  in  autumn ; 

When  all  the  leaves  have  fallen, 

And  birds  and  bees  and  flowers  have  gone  away. 

The  air  was  all  aquiver, 

The  sun  shone  on  the  river, 

'Twas  a  picture  such  as  heaven  seldom  sends. 

The  grey  rock  seemed  an  altar, 

For  music  running  water, 

And  the  winter  greens  with  scarlet  berries  bend. 

'Twas  not  in  a  southern  zone, 

Where  the  ice  king  is  unknown, 

'Twas  in  the  Berkshire  hills  you  must  remember. 

Time  must  have  made  a  blunder, 

For  wonder,  upon  wonder, 

We  gathered  purple  pansies  in  December. 

Merry  Christmas  time  was  near, 

'Twas  the  last  moon  of  the  year, 

But  the  day  I'm  sure  was  stolen  from  September. 

FRIENDS. 

We  meet,  and  love,  and  part, 
Perhaps  to  meet  once  more; 
Or  it  may  be  the  last, 
Until  on  Eden's  shore. 
And  if  we  could  be  sure, 
Of  ever  meeting  there: 
To  part  would  be  less  pain, 
And  hope's  star  be  more  fair, 
To  once  again  clasp  hands, 
And  friendship's  vow  renew. 
For  friends  are  friends  for  aye, 
And  never  prove  untrue. 

37 


MY  FRIEND. 

I  have  one  friend,  one  faithful  friend, 
So  loving,  steadfast,  and  true, 
Ask  what  I  will  he  is  ready  to  help, 
And  do  all  that  such  friend  can  do. 

Tempt  him  with  wealth,  with  beauty  or  fame, 
His  heart  you'll  not  win  from  me, — 
Always  the  same  in  sunshine  or  rain, 
Such  devotion  you  rarely  will  see. 

Am  I  called  from  his  side,  he  is  lonely  and  sad 

No  other  my  place  can  fill, 

On  my  return  tho'  away  but  an  hour, 

He  meets  me  with  rapturous  thrill.    . 

And  my  love  for  him  is  more  than  a  name, 
'Tis  love  that  will  last  to  life's  end, 
His  love  will  not  change — neither  will  mine, 
For  my  dog  is  that  faithful  friend. 


TWO  BIRTHS. 

We  come  with  pain  and  travail, 
Into  a  life  of  woe, 
Of  sickness,  death  and  parting, 
But  how  we  dread  to  go, — 
Go  to  a  joy  unmeasured, 
Freed  from  the  dross  of  Earth. 
To  live  and  love  forever. 
This  is  our  Heaven'ly  birth. 


38 


A  PACIFIC  COAST  SUNSET. 

Last  night  the  sun  sank  out  of  sight 

In  a  bed  of  gorgeous  flame, 

Of  wreaths,  and  sprays,  and  feathery  ferns, 

And  shapes  and  shades  without  name. 

Rivers,  and  seas  of  rosy  flame, 
With  lakes  of  tender  green, 
And  dashes  of  blue,  and  isles  of  grey, 
With  all  the  tints  between. 

'Twas  a  royal  bed  for  the  God  of  day, 
A  picture  so  grand  and  clear, 
Were  it  on  canvas  t'would  mark  the  hand, 
Of  an  artist  without  a  peer. 

And  just  above  a  fair  young  moon, 
Looked  down  on  the  setting  sun, 
And  the  flame  died  out  in  a  tender  glow, 
And  stars  came  out  one  by  one. 


FRIENDSHIP. 
To  MRS.  G.  ORMSBY. 

The  strongest,  purest,  truest  tie, 

That  to  mankind  is  given ; 

The  one  that  leads  to  greatest  peace, 

And  makes  Earth  most  like  Heaven. 

One  that  no  gold  nor  gems  can  buy, 

That  asks  no  gifts  from  you, 

But  ever  stands  with  out-stretched  hands. 

'Tis  friendship  loyal,  true. 

And  if  our  friend  be  called  away 

It  matters  not  how  far, 

We  know  the  tie  will  bear  the  strain, 

And  shine  out  like  a  star ; 

And  if  for  days,  or  months,  or  years, 

We  may  not  meet  our  friend, 

We  know  the  heart  is  faithful  still. 

True  friendship  has  no  end. 

39 


QUEEN  VICTORIA. 

Master,  Thy  will  be  done ; 
A  Sovereign's  race  is  run, 
Thy  will  be  done ; 
E'en  tho'  our  hearts  be  riven, 
One  more  Saint  in  Heaven 
A  crown  hath  won. 

More  crowns  than  one  she  wore, 
Great  crosses  bravely  bore  : 
Her  hope  Thy  cross ; 
Queen  of  our  Motherland 
Here  mute  in  tears  we  stand, 
Mourning  thy  loss. 

Yea,  weep  all  womankind, 
Such  friend  we  only  find 
Once  in  our  lives ; 
Children  her  tender  care, 
Oh !  how  ye'll  miss  her  there ! 
Orphans  and  wives. 

Peace  was  her  last  desire: 
Thus  at  her  altar  fire, 
War  held  no  part ; 
She  for  her  Soldiers  wept, 
Their  wives  and  children  kept 
Close  to  her  heart. 

As  mother,  queen  or  wife, 
One  nobler  in  this  life 
Earth  hath  not  seen ; 
Pre-eminent  she  stood, 
overeign  of  womanhood, 
God  rest  the  Queen! 


DRIFTING. 

We're  drifting  down  the  stream  of  life, 
Out  to  an  unknown  sea, 
From  whence  no  tide  will  e'er  return. 
The  port's  Eternity. 

40 


A  MEMORY. 

Lovely  Carmel  by  the  sea. 
Oft  my  thoughts  will  turn  to  thee ; 
To  the  stately  Pines  so  fair, 
To  thy  balmy,  healing  air. 

To  thy  waters  sparkling  bright, 
And  the  glorious,  starry  night ; 
When  we  wandered  by  the  shore, 
Talked  of  days  that  come  no  more. 

Saw  the  moon  rise  on  the  Bay, 
Saw  the  shadows  flit  away, 
Saw  the  waves  wash  o'er  the  sand, 
Heard  one  call  this  fairy  land. 

Heard  strange  voices  from  the  sea, 
Whisper  tales  of  mystery, 
Stories  told  of  loss  and  wreck, 
Saw  pale  phantom-fingers  beck. 

Heard  the  night  bird  in  the  trees 
Tell  his  mate  how  sweet  the  breeze 
Coming  at  the  solemn  hour, 
From  the  sea — Verbena's  flower. 

Saw  the  sand  dunes  caps  of  green, 
With  the  pure,  white  sands  between, 
Looked  like  snowbanks  rocked  to  rest, 
On  the  restless  ocean's  breast. 

Saw  Point  Lobos,  gray  and  grim 
'Neath  the  far  horizon's  brim ; 
Saw  across  the  glistening  sands 
Classic  Cypress  Point,  the  grand. 

Then  the  pine  trees  whispered  low : 
"To  your  slumbers  better  go, 
Sleep  and  dream  that  soon  you'll  be, 
Again  in  Carmel  by  the  sea." 

41 


OLD  POINT  LOBOS. 

Old  Point  Lobos,  grim  and  gray, 
Holds  her  hand  to  catch  the  spray, 
With  one  long,  gaunt  ringer  bent 
Toward  the  distant  Orient. 

Grizzled  hand  so  rough  and  hard, 
Rich  the  treasures  that  ye  guard, 
Lebanon's  sacred  Cedar  trees, 
Hath  been  trusted  unto  thee. 

Zealous  Pilgrims,  long  ago 

As  great  Buddha's  archives  show, 

Left  their  distant  Orient, 

On  a  pious  mission  bent. 

Sailed  toward  the  Golden  Gate, 
Found  a  country  desolate; 
Not  one  human  being  found. 
But  rock  and  sea  and  virgin  ground. 

Here  they  scattered  to  the  breeze, 
Seeds  of  their  most  sacred  trees, 
Seed  by  Holy  Buddha  blest, 
E'er  they  started  on  their  quest. 

Planted  they  with  throbbing  heart, 
Of  their  very  souls  a  part ; 
Hear  their  sobbing  voices  cry, 
As  the  winds  go  whistling  by. 

Scan  those  ancient  Cedar  trees, 
Standing  here  by  western  seas, 
Form  of  man,  of  bird  and  beast, 
Mighty  mysteries  of  the  East. 

Giants  once,  now  feeble,  spent, 
Reaching  toward  their  Orient 
Is  the  cause  of  their  despair 
Souls  of  Buddha  prisoned  there. 

Mourning  for  their  sacred  land, 
For  their  Buddhist  Temple  grand, 
With  bared  breasts  in  faith  they  wait 
For  Buddha  at  the  Golden  Gate. 

Could  we  read  Point  Lobos  well, 
This  the  story  it  might  tell. 

42 


LINCOLN,  GREAT  HIGHWAY 

No  braver  men  e'er  fought  or  died, 
Than  on  that  rock-bound  bay; 
And  Bunker  Hill  will  ever  mark, 
Our  Independence  Day. 

When  that  great  day  by  man  was  won, 
What  mighty  seed  was  sown, 
"He  builded  better  than  he  knew," 
Our  state  was  then  unknown. 

But  mankind,  filled  with  "wander-lust," 
(And  oh,  there  is  a  throng)  : 
So  pioneers  just  made  a  path, 
And  brought  our  Flag  along. 

No  brighter  star  shines  in  the  blue, 
Than  this  bright  star  of  ours. 
O !  California,  land  of  gold, 
Of  sunshine,  fruits  and  flowers. 

The  Feather  River  flowing  through 
The  canons  wild  and  grand. 
Yes,  here  the  wond'rous  works  of  God, 
Are  found  on  every  hand. 

Man,  too,  has  shown  his  mighty  power 
The  wonders  to  complete. 
Has  made  with  steam  and  iron  rail, 
The  sea  and  mountain  meet. 

Here  once  the  Red  man  roamed  at  will, 
Ere  White  man's  foot  had  pressed, 
The  leagues  and  leagues  that  lie  between. 
The  boundless  East  and  West. 

No  lovelier  spot  was  ever  found, 
This  day  to  celebrate, 
Than  here  is  found  'mid  scenes  so  grand. 
The  finest  in  our  state. 

The  Feather  River  canon,  rich 
In  all  that  makes  for  wealth, 
In  air,  in  water,  fruits  and  flowers, 
And  best  of  all  good  health. 

43 


Here  balmy  breezes  fan  the  brow, 
'Mid  scents  of  trees  and  flowers ; 
And  here  we  find  sweet  peace  and  rest, 
And  dreamless  sleep  is  ours. 

Call  it  "King's  Vale,"  or  "Vale  of  Kings," 
Or  good  old  name,  "Big  Bar" ; 
To  find  a  better  place  to  rest, 
You'll  have  to  travel  far. 

But  progress  never  stops  at  all, 
So  let  us  hope  and  pray, 
The  Feather  River  canon  gets 
The  Lincoln,  Great  Highway. 


A  VOICE. 

All  sounds  were  hushed,  all  voices  still, 
As  the  wond'rous  music  rang 
Thru  the  mellow  air,  that  summer  eve, 
And  such  heavenly  stories  sang. 

There  were  songs  so  sad,  so  sweetly  sad, 
They  made  the  tear-drops  start, 
As  they  told  the  tale,  to  our  list'ning  ears, 
Of  a  lonely  aching  heart. 

The  stars  were  shining  overhead, 
Sweet  roses  at  our  feet, 
As  we  sat  on  the  moonlit-porch  that  night, 
And  reveled  in  music  sweet. 

There  were  songs  of  hope,  of  love,  of  woe, 
But  not  one  note  of  sin ; 
For  the  magic  sound  that  thrilled  our  souls 
Was  the  Voice  of  a  Violin. 

'Twas  a  master  hand  that  drew  the  bow, 
And  made  our  tear-drops  start, 
And  each  one  felt  we  were  listening  to 
An  artist  with  soul  and  heart. 

44 


THE  VETERANS. 

Ye  gray-haired  men  with  wounds  and  scars, 
We  look  upon  your  ranks  with  pride; 
Ye  would,  in  our  dear  country's  need, 
To  save  her  honored  flag,  have  died. 

In  youth  and  health,  ye  gladly  gave 
Your  time,  your  strength,  your  limbs,  your  lives ; 
You  left  your  homes,  your  shops,  your  plows : 
Yes — left  your  sweethearts,  babes  and  wives. 

Where  hundreds  went,  but  tens  came  back, 
And  some  through  weary  years  must  drag 
A  crippled  body,  broken  health — 
But  Oh !  you  saved  our  dear  old  flag ! 

On  land  or  sea  no  braver  men 
E'er  fought  beneath  yon  starry  sky ; 
No  coward  blood  flowed  in  your  veins : 
Your  motto  was  to  win  or  die. 

Could  greater  honor  woman  crown, 
Although  we  sought  it  all  our  lives, 
Than  when  we  fondly,  proudly  boast: 
We're  veterans'  daughters,  sisters,  wives ! 

Oh !  Mothers,  teach  your  lisping  babes, 
Tho'  they  in  all  things  else  may  lag, 
Two  things  must  ever  honored  be : 
First  God,  and  then  our  country's  flag. 

The  flag  that  won  at  Bunker  Hill — 
That  Sherman  carried  to  the  sea : 
That  guided  Schofield,  Logan,  Grant — 
The  flag  that  ever  shall  be  free. 

The  flag  now  floats  o'er  North  and  South, 
O'er  East  and  West,  from  shore  to  shore ; 
And  tells  to  every  passing  breeze, 
Our  land  is  free  for  evermore. 

Long  may  God  bless  the  Stars  and  Stripes, 
That  never  to  a  foe  surrenders ; 
And  bless  the  gallant  boys  in  blue, 
Old  Glory's  brave  defenders ! 

45 


APPLE  BLOSSOMS. 

Apple  blossoms,  apple  blossoms, 
Dainty,  fresh  and  fair. 
Annie  wore  sweet  apple  blossoms, 
In  her  golden  hair. 

The  apple  trees  are  all  in  bloom; 
And  birds  are  singing  gay, 
My  heart  is  light  from  morn  'till  night, 
For  oh/  tis  sunny  May ! 

'Twas  in  this  month  I  met  my  love, 
The  trees  were  all  a-bloom, 
And  now  alas,  beneath  the  grass : 
She's  sleeping  in  the  tomb. 

Fair  orchids,  lilies,  roses,  pinks, 

Are  all  as  naught  to  me, 

And  other  flowers  have  lost  their  power, 

When  apple-blooms  I  see. 


DREAMING. 

I  am  dreaming,  fondly  dreaming, 
Of  the  blessed  long-ago, 
Tho'  I  dream  it  o'er  and  over 
It  will  come  no  more,  I  know. 

But  like  rays  of  vanished  rainbows 
That  are  lost  for  ever  here, 
It  will  lead  me  on  to  heaven, 
There  to  meet  the  one  so  dear. 

There  to  meet,  to  love,  to  cherish, 
Hearts  that  now  are  sundered  far, 
Happy  time  oh !  hasten  onward. 
Let  me  find  my  life's  bright  star. 

And  amid  bright,  radiant  vision, 
Find  the  one  I  love  so  well 
Never  more  to  suffer  parting, 
But  with  him  forever  dwell. 

46 


MY  DOVE. 

Rest  on  this  breast,  my  own  fair  dove, 

Wounded  by  thee, 

Heal  it  for  me, 

Then  naught  can  harm  souls  that  so  love. 

Blest  with  a  hope  from  above. 

Tender  dove,  sweetly  sing  of  thy  true  love, 
Tender  dove,  sweetly  sing  of  thy  dear  love, 
Sing  of  home,  of  joys  to  come, 
O  sing,  sweet  bird,  and  comfort  me. 

Here  fold  thy  wings,  and  be  at  rest, 

No  more  to  part, 

Dear  heart,  sweet  heart. 

No  more  to  grieve,  but  oh !  so  blest, 

Rest  thou  in  peace  on  my  breast. 

Tune  thy  voice,  gentle  one,  to  songs  of  life, 
Then  some  fair  day  to  come,  be  thou  my  wife. 
And  sing  of  home,  home,  home  sweet  home, 
O !  sing  of  home  and  comfort  me. 


LOVE. 

Of  all  that  life  holds  for  you  what  is  the  best, 
O  !  what  would  you  keep,  tho'  you  lose  all  the  rest 
Is  it  youth,  is  it  health,  is  it  beauty  or  fame, 
And  where  is  its  dwelling,  and  what  is  its  name  ? 

In  earth's  lonely  deserts,  or  regions  above, 
To  mortals  or  angels,  there's  nothing  like  love. 
It  brightens  the  landscape  wherever  we  go, 
And  beams  like  a  star  in  the  pathway  of  woe. 

All  melody  breathing,  all  sunshine  in  gloom, 
Love  sighs  at  the  cradle,  love  garlands  the  tomb. 
Then  away,  far  away,  where  bright  planets  roll, 
Oh !  there  is  love's  home,  in  the  land  of  the  soul. 

So  love  is  the  jewel,  the  brightest  and  best, 
The  one  I  would  keep  tho'  I  love  all  the  rest, 
For  to  love  and  be  loved,  every  true  heart  will  own, 
Is  greater  to  women  than  scepter  or  throne. 
47 


ODE  TO  JOAQUIN  MILLER. 

Men  live  and  strive,  then  pass  away, 
And  are  remembered  but  a  day. 

The  world  goes  on  the  same  old  pace, 
And  others  come  to  fill  the  place. 

But  when  a  giant  mind  is  born, 
It  brings  new  light  into  the  morn. 

Tho'  for  a  time  it  be  unknown 
It  soon  will  come  into  its  own. 

The  Avon  marks  old  England's  bard, 
A  granite  monument  our  guard. 

While  yon  Sierra  Mountains  stand 
One  name  will  glorify  our  land. 

Tho'  towns  and  cities  may  decay, 
Some  names  will  never  pass  away. 

Our  Golden  State,  our  Golden  Gate 

Are  names  well  known  to  small  and  great. 

But  there's  one  name  known  far  and  near, 
A  name  the  whole  world  will  revere. 

They'll  come  from  over  seas  and  land, 
And  by  his  resting  place  will  stand, 

Will  speak  in  reverent  tones  his  name, 
For  time  will  but  increase  his  fame. 

And  Joaquin  Miller  Rights  will  be 
The  mecca  of  the  Western  sea. 

They'll  climb  the  Rights  and  'neath  his  trees 
Look  out  across  the  Western  seas. 

In  fancy  hear  the  voice  that's  gone 
Once  more  ring  out :  "Sail  on,  Sail  on !" 

48  / 


MOTHER'S  VOICE. 

In  memory's  glass  I  often  see, 
A  happy  group  at  Mother's  knee, 
Each  eager,  smiling,  happy  face, 
In  its  accustomed  resting  place. 

She  tells  us  tales  of  long  ago, 
She  sings  us  songs,  so  soft  and  low, 
On  her  brown  hair  the  firelight  gleams, 
While  Father  in  his  armchair  dreams. 

Her  knitting  needles  click  in  rhyme, 
With  songs  of  her  sweet  girlhood  time, 
And  when  the  happy  hour  is  o'er 
We  always  beg  just  one  song  more. 

Her  sweet  voice  fills  the  dear  old  room, 
With  "Annie  Laurie,"  "Bonnie  Boon," 
Or  "Auld  Lang  Syne,"  or  "Robin  Adair" ; 
And  then  she'd  sing  the  "Old  Armchair." 

Or  it  might  be  loved  "Home,  Sweet  Home,' 
Or  "Blue  Alsatian  Mountains"  roam, 
Where  "A f ton's  Waters"  gently  flow, 
Or  dear  old  song,  "Long,  Long  Ago." 

And  then  the  "Mocking  Bird's"  sweet  call, 
Or  "Harps  that  once  thru  Tara's  Hall," 
So  many  more  flow  in  the  train, 
To  name  them  all  would  be  in  vain 

On  Sabbath  evenings,  good  old  hymns, 
Are  all  dear  Mother  ever  sings, 
"On  Jordan's  Stormy  Banks  I  Stand," 
Or  "Rock  of  Ages"  Oh !  so  grand. 

Since  that  far  day  we've  heard  them  all, 
Whose  singing  holds  the  world  in  thrall, 
Not  all  the  sounds  that  round  us  throng, 
Can  thrill  our  hearts  like  Mother's  song. 

And  when  the  ferryman  shall  come, 
To  bear  us  to  our  final  home, 
Where  heavenly  music  hearts  rejoice, 
Not  one  will  equal  Mother's  voice. 

49 


TO  MY  HUSBAND. 

The  days  and  the  years,  love. 
Are  wearing  away, 
The  locks  once  so  golden, 
Are  fast  turning  grey ; 
The  steps  once  so  sprightly, 
Are  halting  and  slow, 
For  the  days  of  our  wooing, 
Are  long,  long  ago. 

Your  coming  in  June, 
With  birds,  and  sweet  flowerv, 
Brought  to  my  young  heart, — 
Oh !  such  bright,  happy  hours ; 
But  our  hearts  are  as  fond 
As  they  were  in  our  youth, 
More  loving  and  tender, 
We  are  one  now  in  truth. 

Together  we'll  go  to, 

The  sunset  of  life, 

A  faithful  fond  husband, 

A  fond  loving  wife. 

For  our  long  wedded  years, 

Are  far  brighter  I  know, 

Than  the  days  of  our  wooing, 

So  long,  long  ago. 


50 


MY  HOME. 

I  care  not,  my  darling, 
How  far  you  may  roam, 
My  heart's  in  your  keeping 
And  you  are  my  home. 
It's  but  a  brief  moment 
That  is  left  to  us  here, 
We'll  live  it  together 
In  love  and  good  cheer. 

The  time  draweth  near,  love, 
When  parting  must  be, 
For  one  will  be  taken, 
The  other,  ah !  me, 
God  help  the  one,  darling, 
That  must  be  bereft, 
But  one  will  be  taken, 
The  other  be  left. 


TOGETHER. 

It's  four  and  fifty  years,  dear, 
Since  we  in  youth  were  wed ; 
But  well  do  I  remember, 
Some  things  the  parson  said. 
He  said  we'd  find  rough  places, 
And  maybe  stormy  weather, 
But  that  'twould  soon.be  sunshine, 
If  we  but  pulled  togltKeJ*.-  ':\* 

He  said  it  was  ou}-  dij€y,«     -JIV*: 
To  pull  the  same  way  ever;  : :    '•' 
Stand  shoulder  unto  shoulder, 
In  every  kind  of  weather, — 
Now  down  life's  sunset  hill,  dear 
In  lovely,  sunny  weather, 
We're  going  hand  in  hand,  dear, 
Together  love,  together. 


October  30,  1916. 


51 


OUR  GOLDEN  WEDDING  DAY 

You  say  it's  fifty  years,  dear  heart, 
Since  you  and  I  were  wed, 
To  me  it  seems  but  yesterday, 
So  fast  the  years  have  fled. 

The  sun  is  shining  just  as  bright, 
The  birds  as  sweetly  sing, 
As  when  on  that  October  morn, 
You  pledged  me  with  this  ring. 

The  ring  Ah !  me  is  but  a  thread 
Of  that  bright,  shining  band, — 
But  yet  the  ring  is  not  more  changed, 
Than  this  fair,  girlish  hand. 

Together  we  have  breasted  storms, 
Together,  sun  or  rain, 
But  Oh !  we've  had  a  thousand  joys, 
For  every  hour  of  pain. 

We  know  not  what  the  future  holds, 
What  changes  may  await, 
But  trust  the  power  that  reigns  o'er  all, 
Yet  ask  one  boon  of  fate. 

Now  as  we  near  life's  sunset  port — 
Our  sails  so  nearly  furled — 
That  we  together,  hand  in  hand, 
May  leave  this  dear  old  world. 

October  30,  1912. 


53 


ONLY  SEEMS. 

The  light  of  day  seems  breaking, 
The  dawn  of  peace  seems  near, 
With  soul  and  heart,  a-tremble, 
We  wait  in  hope  and  fear. 

O !  is  this  carnage  over, 
This  cruel,  bloody  war? 
This  brother  slaying  brother, 
And  then,  what  is  it  for? 

Just  for  the  pride  of  rulers, 
Just  for  the  greed  of  power ; 
They've  slaughtered  by  the  million, 
The  best  of  manhood's  flower. 

And  if  the  war  is  ended, 
Great  sorrows  still  remain ; 
The  broken,  crippled,  bodies, 
The  blind,  the  halt,  the  lame. 

They've  clothed  the  earth  in  mourning, 
With  blood  they've  dyed  the  sea; 
But  one  crime  e'en  was  greater, 
The  one  on  Calvary. 


54 


FOND  HEARTS. 

0  dear  one,  take  my  hand, 

1  know  thy  heart  is  mine, 

Be  thou  the  sunshine  of  my  life, 

As  I  will  be  of  thine. 

If  clouds  e'er  dim  our  skies, 

As  here  they  ever  do, 

Be  thou  my  fond  and  faithful  friend, 

I'll  be  the  same  to  you. 

FOND  HEARTS,  FOND  HEARTS,  FOND 
HEARTS  ARE  EVER  TRUE, 

SWEETHEART,  DEAR  HEART,  I'LL  CON 
STANT  BE  TO  YOU. 

If  on  life's  untried  way, 

We  find  some  hill  to  climb, 

If  but  together  heart  and  hand, 

We  soon  bright  paths  will  find, 

In  spring's  fair  promise,  Youth, 

In  summer's  golden  day, 

In  autumn's  perfect  ripened  fruit, 

Or  wintry's  locks  of  gray. 

FOND  HEARTS,  FOND  HEARTS,  FOND 
HEARTS  ARE  EVER  TRUE, 

SWEETHEART,  DEAR  HEART,  I'LL  CON 
STANT  BE  TO  YOU. 

(Repeat) 


55 


STILL  TOGETHER. 

Just  fifty-five  short  years  ago, 
We  joined  our  lives  for  weal  or  woe, 
Pledged  to  live  in  peace  together 
Thro'  all  kinds  of  changing  weather. 

We've  jogged  along  these  many  years, 
We've  had  our  joys  and  some  times  tears, 
But  this  one  fact  full  well  I  know, 
We've  had  more  weal  by  far  than  woe. 

We've  been  true  friends  as  man  and  wife, 
Have  learned  that  love  is  all  of  life. 
And  now  we  near  the  changing  place 
Where  each  alone  the  change  must  face. 

The  parting  is  a  cruel  pain, — 
Altho'  we  soon  shall  meet  again, 
If  you  go  first,  dear,  for  me  wait, 
I'll  meet  you  just  this  side  the  gate. 

And  then  together  hand  in  hand, 
Before  the  final  judge  we'll  stand, 
And  pray  this  may  the  sentence  be, 
Together  thru  Eternity. 


October  30,  1917. 


56 


AWAITING. 

Just  a-waiting  for  the  message, 
That  shall  call  me  home  to  you, 
It  seems  long,  dear,  in  the  coming, 
But  I'll  keep  this  thought  in  view. 

It  will  last  forever,  darling, 
Parting  then  will  be  unknown; 
All  eternity  together, 
Heaven  itself  will  be  our  own. 

Just  to  serve  and  know  the  Master, 
No  more  heartache,  no  more  sorrow, 
Just  the  bright  sunshine  of  loving, 
All  today,  no  thought  of  morrow. 

I  will  try  to  wait  in  patience, 
Try  to  do  some  good  while  here, 
Strive  to  do  as  you  would  have  me, 
If  I  fail,  forgive  me,  dear. 

Oh !  I  am  so  lonely,  dearest, 
Tho'  among  friends,  good  and  true, 
Doing  all  they  can  to  cheer  me, 
All  my  heart  asks,  dear,  is  You. 


October  30,  1918. 


57 


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THE  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


